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by whisperofgrace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3625173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperofgrace/pseuds/whisperofgrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of Jolly Roger appreciate and general CS fluffiness after this weeks episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

It had been a long time since Killian had slept as deeply as he did on the first night that he had the Jolly Roger back.

 

The rocking of the ship, gentle as it was when she was docked, had always been peaceful to him. After a good few hundred years with the Jolly as his home, however, it was impossible to relax quite as much as when he was on the water.

 

(He thought that he'd found something just as good in green smiling eyes, but they were just as likely to make his heart beat out of his chest as it was to calm him).

 

Opening his eyes to the first morning since he'd reattained his ship, Killian raised himself up onto his elbows, squinting against the light that poured in through the window. It illuminated the cabin to a soft glow and when his eyes adjusted, he looked around quickly, reassuring himself that he was still here.

 

It was sparser than usual, but that didn't bother him too much. Blackbeard had gotten rid of most of the personal possessions that he'd left behind when he'd traded her for the bean, and in turn he'd spent a good few hours the night before removing everything that had belonged to the other pirate. A few things he'd put aside, knowing he could trade them with Belle for good coin, but most of it had gone over the side, and good riddance.

 

If he could go back and change the past (again), he knew that he would have made the same decision. The Jolly Roger was his home, but the saying "home is where the heart is" was an old one, and his heart felt safe in Emma's hands.

 

That didn't mean that he wasn't glad to have her back.

 

Killian was usually early to rise, but if there was any excuse to lie back and enjoy the moment then this was it, and he did so literally. Sighing in content as his head hit the familiar pillow, his eyes traced the familiar grain of the wood above his head. The familiar weight of the covers shifted against his naked skin as the quiet sway of the ship loosened the tension in his muscles.

 

Granny's beds might have been larger, but they came in a sore second to this.

 

He must have dozed off again because when a knocking sounded at the door he started, half sitting up before he'd realised that he'd moved at all, his heart beating quickly as it took him a moment to come to himself. _Right. On the Jolly, in Storybrooke._

 

'Killian?' came a call from the other side of the door, and the corner of his lips lifted automatically at the sound of Emma's voice. 'You're in there, aren't you?'

 

Her knuckles rapped at his door once more, and he realised that he hadn't answered her. Clearing his throat, he threw his legs over the edge of his bed, but his answering words died in his throat when he realised that he was still naked.

 

'Killian?' She sounded a little more uncertain this time.

 

'Aye, love,' he called, standing up and striding to the other side of the cabin. Yesterday's trousers were thrown over the back of a chair and although he'd have preferred to greet her in clean clothes, his reserves were still in the drawer at Granny's. He stepped into the trousers and pulled them up quickly, holding the edges closed at the front with his wrist while he pulled up the zipper. 'Just a minute.'

 

There was silence on the other side of the door as he put one arm through the sleeves of his shirt and then the other, making do with just a couple of buttons before stepping up to the door. It was an unconscious act to tug down the left sleeve so that it covered his wrist, but by the time he'd realised it he was already opening the door, and altering it now would only draw more attention to it.

 

He wasn't sure how he felt about that part of himself yet, not when it came to her. He wanted to share every part of himself with her, but he didn't want to remind her that he was less than whole.

 

But she'd never acted like it bothered her...

 

It hadn't bothered him either, for a long time. But now... things were different.

 

Now there was a strong, daring, beautiful woman standing in his doorway with a smile just for him, and the thought still made his chest tighten.

 

'Hey,' Emma said, and was he imagining it or was there light dancing in her eyes? He definitely didn't miss the way those eyes dropped to take him in, pausing for a moment over his chest, and he wasn't sure whether to feel nervous under her scrutiny or pleased. When her gaze raised to his once more it been a second or two at most, but the faint reddening of her cheeks made him itch to see just how far below the neck of her blouse that blush went. 'I'm sorry for just barging aboard,' she continued conversationally. 'I didn't really know how to ask permission to come aboard when I had to actually come aboard in order to ask you.'

 

She shrugged and smiled in that way that she did when she was laughing at herself to try and cover her own awkwardness, and he pressed his lips together to hold back his grin, lest she thought he was laughing at her too. Reaching out to her, he took her hand in his, his heart swelling with the easy manner with which she twined their fingers together.

 

'You don't need my permission to come aboard,' he assured her.

 

'Yeah well, I don't really know if that's an actual thing or not, but I didn't want to break any rules, so...' She trailed off, shrugging again, and he squeezed her hand.

 

'You're welcome anytime.' Apparently his face wasn't listening to him, because he realised that he was grinning at her rather stupidly, and he made an effort to school his expression into something more natural. 'Would you like to come in?' he asked, stepping back and dropping her hand to gesture to the room. 'I'm afraid that given the time of the morning and that my only surviving supplies are of rum, I don't have much in the way of refreshments to offer you.'

 

Emma smirked at him as she stepped into the room, and he relaxed to see her feeling more comfortable. 'Wait, I thought that there was no time that didn't call for rum?'

 

Chuckling, he leaned against the cupboard by the door, watching her as she wandered around his cabin, peering at things without shame. He didn't mind; he'd have shown her anything that she'd asked to see without hesitation. 'I'm trying to make an effort to appeal to your sensibilities, my dear,' he joked, biting his tongue at the sceptically raised eyebrow.

 

'Uhuh,' she deadpanned, turning to inspect the books on his wall. Her finger trailed slowly along their spines, and he felt an odd sense of calm wash over him. To see her here, at ease in his cabin, the woman that he loved making herself at home in the vessel that had been his for a good few hundred years... It was something that he never thought that he'd have again.

 

He'd thought that one love had been too much for him, but the embracing of another had happened before he'd had time to worry about it. When he'd given up his ship, he hadn't thought he could have both, but here they were.

 

'What are these?' she asked, glancing up at him quickly before looking back down at the books.

 

'Mostly captain's logs,' he told her honestly, taking a step toward her, unable to deny his constant need to feel closer to her. 'A few personal journals, an encyclopaedia or two. Several novels.'

 

'Hmm,' she said, as though considering, but she'd turned away from him and he couldn't see her face. 'I wonder if your stories are real, too. In another world, I mean,  like everyone from your world is a part of our stories.'

 

It was a curious thought, if not one he was interested in just now. Stepping up behind her quietly, he wrapped his arm around her waist from behind, hiding his smile against her shoulder when his touch didn't seem to surprise her at all. 'Tell me, love,' he whispered, brushing his lips across the skin behind her ear. 'Do I feel like just a story to you?'

 

Her head leaned back against his shoulder with a hum, her hands closing over his arm and he tightened his grip slightly, relishing the feel of her in his arms for as long as he could. He'd take everything from her that she was willing to give, but was reluctant to push for more. He wanted to do right by her, but he also felt like he was a drowning man, and she was the only air that could fill his lungs.

 

She turned in his arms and kissed him, and that was when he felt most alive.

 

His arms surrounded her immediately, his hand flattening on her back to hold her close to him as her lips parted under his, her hands smoothing up his chest and gripping onto the collar of his shirt. She tasted like coffee and smelt like the perfume that she sometimes wore, and he let himself get lost in her. It wasn't until he felt the press of her body fully against his that he realised that he'd backed her up against the cupboard but she didn't seem to mind, her hand slipping around the back of his neck to bring him closer again, her fingers twisting gently in his hair as her teeth brushed over his lower lip and bloody hell, she'd be the death of him one day.

 

When she pulled back, dropping her forehead against his shoulder, he felt a small spark of delight that she was breathing just as hard as he was. Loosening his arms around her slightly, he ran his hand up and down her back, just enjoying the feel of her there.

 

A minute or so passed and she didn't move, and he let his curiosity get the better of him. Leaning back so that he could see her face, he raised his eyebrow at her, giving her his best smirk. He knew that she might roll her eyes and shake her head at him, but he'd learned quickly that she was most likely to open up if he broached it with humour. 'I know that you find it hard to resist me,' he said, his smirk widening into a grin of pure enjoyment when she reacted exactly as he'd expected, 'but did you really come over here just to kiss me? Not that I'm complaining,' he added quickly with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, feeling her body shake as she laughed.

 

'I didn't think so,' she said, stretching up to kiss him again, pressing her lips against his gently this time. His eyes slid closed, enjoying this tender intimacy just as much.

 

The next time she leaned back, he opened his eyes slowly to see her looking up at him with warmth in her gaze, as well as an anxiety that put him a little on edge, despite all of the other good signs that she exuded. He'd bared his heart to her yesterday, and although things had been more than good for them during the last few weeks, there was a time not so long ago when she'd have pushed him away for stepping too close.

 

But then she bit down on her lip gently, and he saw that nervousness for what it was. She wasn't uneasy; she was shy. The hand still gripping his collar loosened to lay flat against his chest, while the other dropped to rest against his neck, her thumb rubbing back and forth slowly across his jaw.

 

'I came to talk to you about yesterday,' she told him quietly, looking up at him openly. 'To tell you not to worry. You might not trust that you're a hero now too, but I know that you think I am.' He opened his mouth to tell her that she was just about as hero as they came, but she pressed her finger to his lips to quieten him. When he didn't protest, she dropped her hand back to his chest. 'When you spoke about your happy ending yesterday,' she continued, 'I realised that I've found mine, too. I've been alone for most of my life, but now I have Henry, and he is the most important thing to me. After spending every day thinking that my parents just abandoned me on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, I get to see them every day now, and I know that they love me just as much as I'd hoped they would. They're my friends, my family, and I'd trust them with my life.'

 

Her eyes had begun to glisten when she'd first mentioned Henry, and when her voice caught at the mention of her parents, Killian removed his arm from around her waist to brush his thumb under her eye, catching the single tear that had fallen. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, and he couldn't help but lean forward and press his lips against her forehead.

 

After giving her a moment, he leaned back and was surprised to see that, although she'd obviously pulled herself together, she hadn't put her walls back up. 'It's the same with you, Killian,' she said earnestly. His lips parted in surprise, questions on the tip of his tongue but he held them back, and he was sure his heart stopped beating for a second. 'The author can't take you away from me, because you're a part of my happy ending, too.'

 

There was so much honesty in her eyes that it was hard to deny the truth of her words, and all he could think of was that he was undeserving. Even so, he'd take that gift and cherish it with his dying breath. She'd always been bigger on actions rather than words, and to hear her confess this to him...

 

_He was a part of her happy ending._

 

'Emma,' he began, but when he couldn't find the right words to express just how much he was feeling, he pulled her back into his arms, holding her as tightly as he was able and pressing his face to the top of her head. Where were the words to tell her how much he loved her, how much she changed his whole world into a brighter place? 'Emma...'

 

'I know,' he said, her words breathing against his chest. 'Me too.'


End file.
